


I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed you.

by jbird181



Category: The Librarians (TV 2014)
Genre: Angst, Ezekiel is Angry, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2016-08-31
Packaged: 2018-08-12 03:32:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7918882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jbird181/pseuds/jbird181
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ezekiel wants to kill Stone for being so reckless. He ends up kissing him instead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed you.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SnorkleShit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnorkleShit/gifts).



> This is based on a prompt from tumblr: “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

I stumble through the Backdoor after Stone, trembling uncontrollably. My knuckles are starting to turn an unattractive shade of purple, and I know they'll begin to hurt once the adrenaline wears off, but it’s so worth it. If I hadn't punched that witch, her hex might've hit Stone because that idiot decided to play hero and throw himself in the middle of an entire fucking coven of witches for one measly magical book.

I shove Stone, hard. “You stupid idiot!”

“What the hell?”

“What were you _thinking_?” I throw a punch at him that he easily blocks, grabbing my wrist.

“It worked, didn't it?” Stone says, and he has no right to sound annoyed at _me_.

“You could've been hurt!”

“And?” he manages to squeeze out through clenched teeth before I’m clutching his shirt with the hand he isn't holding hostage, pulling him down a precious few inches so I can press my lips roughly against his, trying to make him understand my anger with actions instead of these apparently ineffective words. It's a fury of lips and teeth, and bumping chins and breathing hard and unsaid declarations of _“you’re an idiot”_ and _“I thought I was going to lose you”_ and _“I hate you”_ and _“I don’t really”_.

Stone makes a muffled sound and lets go of my wrist, pulling away.

Without the full force of the helplessness and rage hammering through me, I am able to think in proper sentences again. Here’s one: _I just fucked up brilliantly_.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed you.” Maybe if I talk fast enough my words will overwhelm my mistake. “I didn't mean to--well I _did_ mean to--but not now. I have terrible timing; I’m so sorry.”

“Jones. Ezekiel.”

Now that I’ve opened the spigot, a torrent of words rush out of me, incoherent apologies and rationalizations. “I shouldn't have done that in the first place, I won't do it again. I’m sorry, I really am--”

“ _Ezekiel_.” His kisses me now, the softest touch, his hand hovering over my cheek as if I am fragile. _Maybe I am_.

“Ezekiel,” he repeats, still touching me like I am a butterfly whose wings he is afraid of damaging. I can feel my anger evaporating, burned off like gasoline. I am left empty, slumping against Stone as my legs threaten to give out. “Ezekiel, I am going to clean us both up, and then I'm going to make us tea and we can talk, okay?”

“Yeah,” I whisper. Sitting down sounds wonderful, as does closing my eyes for minute. And hot tea…

Stone is as good as his word.

He presses Band-Aids to the angry red lines that score my skin, and when I show him my internal gashes, Stone bandages those as well. I do my best to do the same for him. With time, we will heal. 


End file.
